


Wincest Western One-Shot

by JustineDelarge



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Humor, M/M, Oral Sex, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 08:03:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustineDelarge/pseuds/JustineDelarge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've been writing a lot of Sam and Dean playing with pink satiny panties. Time for a swing of the pendulum in the other direction. Sam and Dean infiltrated a working cattle ranch in order to track down a monster responsible for cattle mutilations, and have been entrusted with moving a herd of steers to greener pastures. Then this happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wincest Western One-Shot

“Dean, you are a masculine archetype.” Sam’s cowboy hat tilted over his face as they rode along the trail behind the herd of steers.

“Dude, I know.” Dean took a deep slug from his flask, filled with whiskey made by hirsute men from Scotland.

“Sometimes I think they ought to make a mold of your cock and balls and cast them in bronze.”

“I think you should get right on that, Sammy.”

A wide grin spread across Sam’s face, darkened by his week’s worth of stubble that had grown overnight, because he had so much testosterone in him.

“That’s a great idea.” Sam stuck two strong fingers into his mouth and whistled. In a manly fashion.

The steers came to a slow and shuffling halt, and went to water themselves at the river’s edge. 

The cattle dogs lay down and started licking their balls.

Sam and Dean dismounted and unsaddled their horses, and the horses also wandered to the water to drink, their impressive equine members backlit by the orange-and-red streaks of the sun setting on the horizon.

“Sam? Why are we stopping here?”

Sam swaggered over to Dean, hooking his thumbs in his massive belt buckle that said, “This Penis Was Grown in Texas.”

“Your cock and balls. You said I should get right on that.” Sam lifted Dean up onto a large boulder, so that he could suck his cock without having to kneel in an unmanly fashion. “And I will.”

And Sam Winchester sucked Dean Winchester’s cock in the high desert, as the cattle lowed to each other, the dogs licked their balls, and the horses aired their junk in the cool air of twilight.

When Dean came, he grunted, “Fuck.”

Dean jumped down, scuffing his boots on the dirt, stood next to Sam, wrapped a calloused hand around Sam’s cock and jerked him to climax with his strong, masculine grip.

When Sam came, he grunted, “Fuck.”

They built a campfire, heated cans of chili with beans, and when they had eaten their fill, Sam and Dean lay back against their saddles and passed the flask back and forth.

“You know what, Dean?” 

Dean belched. “What, Sam?”

“I enjoy being a man.”

Dean lit up a cheroot. “Fucking A, Sam. Fucking. A.”


End file.
